Zombie on a Couch

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Halloween Blog –

Zombie on a Couch

A day late on my Friday Halloween blog, but here you go!

Some of us may remember Tony from Sopranos talking with his therapist. We giggled when Robert DeNiro tormented his therapist Billy Crystal in Analyze That.

In the realm of psychotherapy, have you ever wondered what it’d be like to watch a Zombie spilling one’s beans from the couch? Can anyone really imagine such a scenario? Frankly, I think it’d be hard to get inside the Zombie mind since it’s chalked full of worms already.

But on a serious note, let’s say we are sitting behind a one-way mirror. On the other side is a small, quaint room with a two cushion chairs and a large couch. Two abstract paintings hang on the wall. This is a calming and serene looking psychotherapy room.

We are all eager to watch the therapy scene unfold.

Our therapist today is Jeanette, a smartly dressed woman in her 40s, wearing grey slacks and dark purple top, and stylish glasses sit on her nose. Jeanette has a tendency to smile on the right side.

She walks out her door, and Jeanette asks, “Hey George, how are you doing?”

A rough, scratchy voice replies, “Being undead isn’t all what’s it cracked up to be. I can’t just sleep. All the medications I take are useless.”

The door re-opens and Jeanette walks in, and something follows her inside.  George has unfortunately been undead for awhile. George has pale crinkled skin, and in places it’s rotting off. He’s dressed in a Hawaiian shirt filled with holes and frayed shorts. Jeanette settles in a chair, crosses her legs and sets her chin on hand, and discreetly places her hand over mouth and nose. George meanwhile flops on the couch, pushing off his tattered shoes.

Jeanette speaks in empathic tone. “Well George – let’s talk about that some more.”

George rests his head on the cushion, and says, “I don’t know if I can take it anymore doc. My old friends I used to hang out with, just make grunts and wander off.”

Jeanette simply nods.

George doesn’t need any prompts though. He sighs and flakes of skin puff up in the air. “And forget trying to make any friends with people who are alive. Before they even see me, they put their hands over their mouth and nose… Uh, kinda like what you’re doing. Everything okay, doc?”

Jeanette shakes her head. “It’s nothing. Keep going, please.”

“Oh, right. Well, even when I get close to live humans they call me names.”

“Names? Like what?”

“Oh, gosh. Dead-Walker. Walking Dead. Undead. One yesterday called me Creeper. Really not necessary.”

Jeannette asks in a soft voice, “What about the new place where you live? What’s it called … Rotville?”

George snorts. “That place. The newbies, they have nothing to do with me. They still have pristine skin and their limbs don’t catch.” George grimaces, commenting to the air, “Just they wait though. They’ll rot out one day too.”

“You haven’t met anyone? Did you do your homework like we talked about? You were going to attend that group – Deadrules.”

He places a hand to his forehead, rubbing it. Skin unravels as he massages his head. “Oh, well. I guess I did meet a guy.”

Jeanette subtly changes her position in her seat. “That’s good George. That’s good. Tell me about him.”

“Well, he’s been undead for only two weeks, so he’s a bit younger than me. But we’ve been texting the last couple of nights. I want to make a move, but…”

“But what George?”

“Well, you know. Downstairs. Things are a bit dead. Been dead awhile in fact.”

“Oh, I see.”

Jeanette shifts in her seat.

George sits up. “What’s that doc?”

“George, there’s much more to a relationship than that.”


“What about asking him on a date?”

“You’d think he’d say yes?”

“You won’t know until you ask, right?”

George scratches his chin. “Got a point there. Like where would I take him?”

“What’s he like to do?”

“He likes waiting outside some local bar and catching a drunken human, then eating him.”

“Oh, I see.”

“But you know, I’ve vowed to take a break from eating people.”

“Yes, I remember. You’ve been following that?”

“To the T, doc. Well, maybe a nibble here and there.” He holds up his hands. “Don’t worry, Doc. You’re safe.”

“Right. Is there something else you could do?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking the place I was born.”

“Oh, back in Wichita, Kansas?”

“No, no, nooo. Not born live, but you know, that night crawled out of my grave. Back at Cemetery Lane. It’s not far from town.”

Jeanette holds up one hand, with a thumbs up. “George, sounds like you have a plan!” She fans a paper next to her head. “George, we’re gong to have to cut the session short, I apologize. I’m not feeling a bit faint. And I was thinking, the next time we meet. Maybe Skyping?”

George is already up and his face is excited. He barely hears Jeanette. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. Gosh, these sessions really help. You think I should wear something nice on our date?”

“You want to make a good impression?”

George smiles. “I know just the right thing.”


I grew up in a small town called Rose Hill, a suburb of Wichita, Kansas. I was a teenager of the 1980s and coming out gay was not a trend in those times, especially in rural area of Kansas. I never dated in high school and people just thought I was shy I suppose - but I wouldn't fully come out gay and accepting of myself until my early 30s. When I look back at those days, I recall reading tons of movies and reading even more books, but I cannot remember reading about a gay hero who saved the day. Gay people, I think for the most part, were cast in a shadow. When I started writing, as I continue to write, my goal has to be write about LGBT characters for a wide audience and I really never have intended to write towards a niche LGBT audience. It is my goal in life, to one day, complete a piece of work with a diverse range of characters that is of great entertainment to all spectrums of sexual orientations and genders.


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